


Photographs

by hatebeat



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:37:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatebeat/pseuds/hatebeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuji likes to play all sort of games, but tennis is one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I wrote this story in 2004 for NaNoWriMo. At the time, It was poorly written and even more poorly edited. I've recently revisited the Tenipuri fandom and have decided to edit and re-publish some of my very old fan fiction in order to do them some justice.
> 
> 2\. I slightly alter canon so that the events of the series take place during high school rather junior high. Those boys are certainly not fourteen. Everything is the same, but Seigaku is a high school rather than a middle school.

The tennis club resembled a warehouse, big and obtrusive and in the way of everything. When Fuji's father first brought him there he asked why it was inside; obviously, tennis was meant to be an outdoor sport. That was why courts _were_ , primarily, outside. There were tennis courts by Fuji's elementary school, and there were also bigger ones-- _big kid_ ones, near a little playground that an old man had built.

Fuji liked to watch the older kids play tennis. The metallic scraping sound that the ball cans made as the tops were torn off intrigued him, as did the similarly fascinating satisfaction brought to him by the popping sound a tennis ball made as it hit a racquet's sweet spot. He would never fail to hear the spin, the sound of the stiff strings grating against a ball. It really wasn't surprising that, after a racquet had been used (even just once), the slight green hairs that shed from the ball caked the crevices between the strings.

He would go after school to play on the aforementioned playground, often with his brother. Sometimes their sister would meet them there, too, even though she went to a different school. Yumiko would usually sit against the trunk of a tree, her nose buried in some book that probably made her guess at every other kanji, and Yuuta was shy, more energetic about building things out of rocks and playing with toy trucks in the sand box than taking a single step toward playing with others. Fuji always got a thrill out of climbing over the various wooden limbs and rope ladders. It was fun and often challenging for his small fingers and feet, and the trestles were built all surrounding the tennis courts, where he could listen to his favourite sounds. At that age, it almost seemed like music.

It was just starting to get dark after school on a Friday evening when he left Yumiko and Yuuta to play their normal games, skipping out on hearing his favourite rhythm, and walked all the way to the tennis shop. It wasn't near his school-- nor even his house, really-- but he'd heard people mention it at the courts near the playground, and he was interested.

Despite all the talk about it, nobody had actually bothered to offer to take him there.

It was a small shop, with a lone clerk managing the checkstand. There were almost definitely larger shops around; Fuji was certain there was a rather large building whose description bore the words 'tennis and golf', but this shop certainly had the better word of mouth. Perhaps it only gave the best discounts. Fuji wasn't sure, but from the atmosphere, it seemed just right.

The clerk watched Fuji as he watched the racquets. He touched so many of them, just running his fingers over the sides of their heads, over the thickness of their strings, down the rubbery padding of the grip. He touched each of them delicately, as though he were reading Braille. Perhaps the worker got tired of the quiet, or of watching the only customer wander the store aimlessly. Perhaps she actually considered herself in an important position, introducing a fascinating sport to a child who, unbeknownst to either of them, would play for years and years to come. She walked from behind the counter where she'd been flipping lazily through a weathered equipment catalogue and appeared at Fuji's side, watching the way he inspected each racquet without actually taking them from the shelf pegs.

"You're allowed to hold them, you know," she offered gently, when he thoroughly ignored her presence.

"Can I?" he responded vaguely, still just running his fingers over the light metals and plastic and padding that composed a single racquet.

She took one from the shelf, a junior-sized one. Fuji was a child, after all, and even for a child, he was rather small for his age. "Of course you can," she smiled, handing it to him. "Is this going to be your first racquet?"

He stared at it in his hand. It certainly wasn't attractive, nor smooth, nor elegant like many of the others lining the wall. It was bright green with red decals, and the handle was much too short, not at all like the ones he'd seen the big kids playing with. He thought it seemed more like some sort of Christmas decoration, and perhaps if he waited patiently, he'd find one just like it under the tree come December. He didn't even like the way the grip felt. It was too spongy, too soft and sticky against his palm. He'd watched people play tennis and he'd seen them sweat, and if his hand were to sweat against the handle of this racquet, it absolutely wouldn't do for it to be sticky.

He turned his wrist, pretending to test the tool even after first glance had already made up his mind. "It's too small," he said, handing it back to her. He could have put it back _himself_ , but the clerk seemed to take some sort of pride in her work, so he allowed her the pleasure. 

She chuckled, setting it back in line on the wall. "Well, you're still a small boy, aren't you? When you grow, your racquet can, too."

Challenged, Fuji momentarily considered reaching up to grab a shelf rail, pulling himself onto his toes so he could reach one of the more expensive racquets near the top. The higher the better, he reasoned to himself, because the junior one that the clerk had tried to offer had been at the very bottom. He settled on selecting one not quite at the top, but it had a sleek yellow finish painted on the soft chrome and it felt much more _right_ as he tightened his hand around it. It was big, certainly, but it was just like the ones he watched other people play with, and this grip on this one wasn't even a little bit sticky.

"I like this one." The clerk offered a friendly smile, which he returned, but it seemed that she was stuck for words. Surely, however, she wouldn't turn down a customer.

She shrugged, sighing. "I suppose you can use whatever racquet you like, once you can pay for it."

Chuckling briefly, he handed the racquet back to her, allowing her to put it back on the shelf, even though it was to be _his_. "What if I come back tomorrow?"

She smiled kindly at him, but Fuji couldn't help feeling like she was being a bit confrontational. "Well, I'm sure it will still be here."

 

\---

 

Fuji's father had been somewhat unhappy with him when he returned home. It was after dark and dinner was already set on the table. Yumiko had even helped their mother prepare it. If he hadn't even bothered to tell his siblings about where he'd gone, he sure wasn't going to give out the details to his parents. He told them, simply, that he'd gone to the tennis shop. Yumiko laughed, somehow knowingly. She could be scary, though not so much to Fuji.

Keeping his promise to the clerk, however, Fuji was back at the tennis shop the next morning with his father (and his father's money). He pointed at the very same tennis racquet while the clerk once again tried futilely to offer him one better suited to his skill level and size. But Fuji had already decided. He liked the way it felt; the grip was smooth, the padding wasn't _too much_. The chrome was frosted. It reminded Fuji of the way the water looked on the beach at the point where it rose and fell on the sand. There was a pattern painted on the strings, and Fuji didn't think yet about how that pattern would disappear once the racquet had been broken in, but it was intriguing anyhow.

His father thought it good that Fuji had developed a sudden desire to play tennis. His eldest son's hobbies were few, and none that seemed as though they would take Fuji anywhere important in life. Fuji was, for the most part, quiet and reserved, preferring to observe rather than participate in most things. He always smiled, though, so nobody had ever pushed him to do things he didn't want to. Tennis would be good for him. 

Nearly immediately, his father signed him up for lessons at the nearby tennis club. Instead of private lessons, while likely more beneficial in the long run, he decided on group lessons, as Fuji had never really been set on making friends. Perhaps this sudden interest in tennis could serve multiple purposes, for all the money going into it.

Fuji was grouped with two boys and a girl. He was only holding his racquet for the first time when he stepped into the huge, echoing warehouse filled with nets and tennis balls that seemed a little too yellow, yellower than a normal tennis ball. The lines on the court were much further apart when he stood atop them, and the nets much higher. The others in his group had junior-sized racquets just like the one the shop clerk had tried to force upon him.

He wouldn't forget the first time the instructor hit a ball to each of them, showing them the proper form with which to return it. Fuji had gotten it back over the net on his first try with what the instructor called a 'forehand', and then again, accidentally, with a 'backhand' before they had even gotten to that point. When he realised that he could make the same music with his racquet as the older kids he'd watched playing after school, Fuji couldn't help but smile.

During the first lesson, Saeki Koujirou, Kurobane Harukaze, and Mizuho Kiyoko couldn't make the same sound with their racquets. Fuji was certain it was because he hadn't let that clerk bully him into getting a sub-par one.

After a couple of weeks of lessons, the instructor pitted them against each other to play a game. Fuji hadn't yet played outside of lessons; the older kids always seemed to have someone to play with, and he hadn't seen the others from his group at the playground. He was paired with Saeki against Mizuno and Kurobane. 

"It's isn't fair," Kurobane said, rather huffily, "putting two boys against a boy and a girl."

Their instructor just smiled. "Tennis is tennis," he said simply.  


Fuji wouldn't ever forget his first game. When they hit the ball, it didn't fly as straight, as purposefully as when the older kids played, but it would arc up in the air, bouncing more at random on the green of the court. Fuji was firm in his belief, though, that his ability to hit the furry yellow balls straight, hard, and in a way that made Mizuho miss, it was all because she hadn't picked the right racquet, and that the woman in the shop must have been wrong in her theory. Some racquets were just too small to play tennis with.

He and Saeki won, and Fuji liked Saeki immediately, because Saeki reminded him, from then on, of what it felt like to win.


	2. Part One

"Mm, it's different here."

"Oh? But you won't forget about me, right?"

"Of course not, Kojirou-kun. How could I? Ah, but I _do_ have to finish unpacking. I have to start school tomorrow."

"Miss you already, Syuu-chan." Fuji could hear the grin in his voice, and ignored the underlying note of what he recognised as longing.

When he hung up the phone, he looked around his new kitchen and smiled.

 

\---

 

It was no different than starting high school anywhere else. He would have been going to a new building either way. But there wasn't a beach just a few blocks from Seigaku, and his friends weren't there. Like Saeki. But he was able to walk to school together with Yumiko now. He couldn't do that in Chiba, where Yumiko had gone to an all-girls academy. She'd made it to Seigaku just in time for her senior year. Classes at Seigaku had already been in session for two weeks, while in Chiba, they weren't due to start for a few days more.

Fuji had taken the admissions exam before he moved, and upon arrival was assigned to class 1-6, which was nowhere near the top of the class. Fuji was absolutely fine with that; school work had never been his area of expertise. At least, it had never been that high of a priority.

The teacher, a stern young woman who was able to quiet her class with a look, sat him next to a redhead who was animatedly doodling on his worksheet. It seemed he had already checked out only two weeks into the term. Fuji glanced over at his page and smiled-- the stick figures lining the margins were all holding tennis racquets.

On the second day of school, Fuji brought his tennis racquet with him and asked Yuuta to meet him after his own classes ended at the practice courts on campus. He would have asked Yumiko to join him, but Yumiko would rather read strange books than play tennis (although, back in Chiba, she would sometimes sit in the grass or on a bench, watching her brothers play together).

His younger brother had been thrilled about moving to Tokyo. Yuuta had never managed to make as many friends as his older siblings had. They were charming and talented where he was shy. In Tokyo, perhaps, he felt that he could redefine himself. Besides, at Seishun Jr. High, nobody knew he had an older brother.

Fuji had almost expected it, but Yuuta didn't show up at the courts. After all, it hadn't been the first time.

Fuji had ended up chatting warmly with the redhead from his class (Fuji found out that his name was Kikumaru, which wasn't difficult, as Kikumaru turned out to be rather sociable) about everything but tennis throughout the first two days. He wasn’t surprised to see him heading towards the more kept courts on Seigaku’s campus after school, racquet laid back over his shoulder with a little bounce in his step. Smiling, Fuji took his racquet and schoolbag over to the far side of the courts, sitting on a bench to see what a normal day of tennis practice entailed at Seishun Gakuen.

It took about an hour for Kikumaru to notice him sitting on the wrong side of the fence. Truthfully, Fuji _would_ rather have been playing tennis, but he had no serious intentions of joining the tennis club. Tennis was fun, and Fuji played at his own leisure. Once you joined a club officially, it became too much of a chore.

"Fuji-kun, do you play tennis?" Kikumaru's fingers wrapped around the metal links of the fence as he stared quizzically at Fuji. Fuji smiled and lifted his racquet from his lap. It seemed an obvious indicator that he, at least occasionally, enjoyed the sport.

"Do freshman get to do anything besides pick up balls and practice strokes?" Fuji asked, looking beyond Kikumaru to the busy courts.

"We do get to practice sometimes, but they still make us do everything for the upperclassmen," Kikumaru lips curved into a pout, and Fuji couldn't help but smile more at such an innocent face, "But don't you think it should be different? They should be teaching us what they know, right?"

"Mm," Fuji nodded, "Well, that doesn't sound very fun. Kikumaru, do you want to play with me after practice?"

"Ahh, really? That would be fun, Fuji-kun!" Kikumaru laughed, and let go of the fence, glancing over his shoulder at the rest of the club, "Guess I should go back for now, though...." He turned with a wave and headed back to where the other freshman were uselessly swinging their racquets. But before he walked too far, he looked back at Fuji with a grin. "By the way, you can just call me Eiji, you know!"

Fuji thought of his friends in Chiba, and what he called them. Kojirou, the twins, Kurobane. But now he supposed he had a new friend. Eiji, hm? He liked that.

 

For an entire half hour after the upperclassmen were released from practice, the freshmen were held hostage to do a few ball drills and sweep the courts. All the while, Fuji remained seated on the bench, smiling with his racquet in his lap. Fuji watched Kikumaru-- _Eiji_ shove the broom across the green of the court, sulking. Some of the other freshmen were chatting idly, but mostly stayed well-behaved under the casual eyes of their senpai.

He watched a stoic young boy follow a senior in a Regulars jacket over to the last court, the court set immediately before Fuji. His hair was mussed from the breeze, and he wore a sweatband on his left wrist-- blue, striped with red and white. He had glasses, an expensive racquet, and was surrounded by an air of greatness, evident even from a distance. He was quite serious, and something about him intrigued Fuji.

Maybe it was the way his eyes followed his senpai across the net, and those eyes were a little bit too passionate as he wrung the grip of his racquet with his left hand. Maybe it was the way, when the senior fed him the ball, his focus was one hundred percent, and how, even though the shot was just a little out of reach, the ball ricocheted from his strings with a fiery power that Fuji had never before seen someone his age produce. He was a bit too serious for a simple practice, and at the very least, it amused Fuji.

"Nya, Fuji-kun, do you still want to play?"

Fuji concealed his surprise at Eiji appearing behind him. It was a bit unsettling to him that watching this passionate freshman practice with his Captain (Fuji had heard the upperclassman called by the title just before they had started their little game) had managed to take up so much of his attention. Unsettling, but interesting, and Fuji watched for a moment longer while he considered whether or not he minded.

"Mm," Fuji nodded, smiling at Eiji, "Should we go to the practice courts?"

"Nah, they'll be done soon. They're always doing this. It's 'cause Tezuka's probably the best player we've got, but they can't let anyone see the Captain playing favourites with little freshmen, you know?" Eiji laughed, taking a drink from his water bottle, and then pulled it from his mouth with a satiated sigh.

"Tezuka, hm?" Fuji murmured to himself, watching the boy pick up two balls from the court without bending over, using only his racquet and the side of his shoe to lift them, "Very interesting."

"Yup," Eiji agreed enthusiastically, and Fuji wasn't sure if Eiji was listening, which was fine, "So, let's go play, okay?"

Fuji stood from the bench, and the motion of it seemed to grab Tezuka's attention. He gave Tezuka an impersonal smile, which Tezuka returned with a challenging stare of his own. Scary.

 

\---

 

Fuji Syuusuke would never forget the first time he stepped onto Seigaku's tennis courts. It was as if there was an entire world between the inside and the outside of that chain-link fence. The courts brought with them the familiar smell of tennis balls, and the ground beneath his feet carried the regular sensation of rubbery cement. When the ball bounced, Fuji liked to believe it was the unique force of that ground that made it fly just right rather than the composition of the tennis ball. The only force impacted upon the ball that truly mattered was the spin, and that came from neither the ball nor the ground, but from Fuji's own racquet.

The light was sinking slowly above the edges of the treetops surrounding the school, sending rays of light diagonally through the slats in the fence, as if the metal had bowed to the will of the sun. 

Eiji suggested they play on the third court; he always played best on it, which of course meant that it must be lucky. Fuji agreed, because it was just a friendly exchange of tennis balls, and even with Eiji playing his best, Fuji was certain that he could win. It was a new opponent, but it made him remember what it felt like to play for the first time, remembered what it felt like to take control of the game.

Playing was fun. But even fun games were meant to be won.

He let Eiji serve first, but only about half of his serves made it into the proper service box. Fuji returned most of the shots that were less than accurate, and nearly every one that was. Of course, he had to let a few slip by, or fall just on the outside of one of those white lines. He always played to win, but he didn't play to humiliate.

Eiji tired out before they could even complete a set. It was understandable, Fuji reasoned, after a long day of almost paying attention in class and picking up balls for their senpai.

"We can quit, now." Fuji smiled, walking to the net to pick up a ball, scooping it up between his racquet and his foot, just as he'd watched Tezuka do. Sweating, Eiji agreed and met Fuji's cool palm with a damp handshake. Fuji let him know that the handshake wasn't really necessary, not between friends.

Eiji left him, heading toward the clubhouse. He was worried his schoolbooks would be locked inside; it was late and everybody else had probably gone home (although, Fuji wasn't sure how serious Eiji's intentions for his homework were, either way), but Fuji wasn't worried. Tezuka had left from the door only a few minutes before and hadn't locked it. Fuji knew, because Fuji could feel Tezuka's eyes on him.

 

\---

 

Fuji walked to the tennis courts with Eiji on the third day of school, his racquet stowed carefully away in his schoolbag, handle sticking out obtrusively. Instead, his hands cradled his camera, the newer one he'd received last Christmas. Eiji had wanted to inspect his camera right away, but he also seemed fairly concerned that Fuji wasn't changing out of his school uniform for practice. 

Apparently, Fuji realised, Eiji had misunderstood his intentions.

"Ehh? Why aren't you going to join the tennis club, Fuji-kun? You're so good!"

Fuji shrugged, stopping just outside the gate to the tennis courts as Eiji walked inside and turned to look at him through the fence. "I play for fun."

"But! Seigaku could use a player like you. It _would_ be fun... I bet you could be a Regular already, and you'd get to play in matches and everything!" Eiji clasped the fence, and twisted his left leg easily behind him, stretching out muscles that seemed impossibly flexible.

"Do you think?" Fuji smiled secretively, knowing he could play far better than anybody had seen him, even in Chiba. Tezuka walked through the gate just then, quiet and obviously eager for club to start. He didn't look at Fuji, but at his Captain, who was leaning against the inside of the fence. "Besides," Fuji added, just loudly enough, "your team already has Tezuka, right?"

He didn't wait for an answer, nor did he so much as glance in Tezuka's direction. He just shifted his bag on his shoulder and walked around the courts to the bench where he'd spent the previous afternoon. Fuji smiled as he held his camera, and turned the dial to automatic, watching the tennis club practice as he cradled it in his lap.

It took him twenty patient minutes to take a decent photograph, one in which Tezuka was near enough to be the subject. The camera wasn't digital, so to make sure he'd captured a satisfying shot, he was forced to take quite a few. There would be no way to tell how each shot came out until he got them developed.

He'd changed his film twice before Eiji bounded towards him, filled with energy after such a satisfying afternoon of scooping tennis balls into baskets.

"Nya, Fuji-kun, do you want to go get a snack with me? I'm hungry, aren't you? Damn, it's been forever since lunch."

Fuji agreed, glad for Eiji's company (although, Fuji couldn't help wondering who Eiji had given his time to throughout the first two lonely weeks of school), and asked him to play just one game with him first; Tezuka was back on the courts again, practicing with his Captain. Eiji grinned, and Fuji followed him back through the gate, back into the atmosphere of Seigaku's tennis courts. They played on the third court again (not because of Eiji's superstition, in Fuji's case, but because Tezuka was playing on the fourth).

Opening his bag carefully, he retracted his racquet and shrugged off his uniform jacket. He rolled his white sleeves to his elbows, and went to the opposite side of the net, parallel to where Tezuka stood on the adjacent court. As he played alongside Tezuka, against Eiji, he mimicked his form in a right-handed manner, purposely giving Eiji an advantage by hitting approximately half his shots out. Tezuka glanced at him as Fuji won the game, and Eiji threw a pout, for which Fuji offered nothing but a smile in return. But the loss was easily forgiven, forgotten, for the remembered promise of food afterward, and Eiji hurried to the club room to change his clothes and gather his things.

While Tezuka was finishing up his extra practice, toweling off his face and sipping from a plain white water bottle, Fuji took the opportunity to capture a last picture of him, and he made no effort to be discreet about it. Why should he?

He just smiled when Tezuka glared straight at him, tossing the towel over his shoulder. It was the first time Tezuka had really _seen_ him, Fuji understood. At first glance, Tezuka's expression seemed only serious, full of nothing but blind, boring, and empty dedication, but Fuji was sure there must be something more.

His Captain smiled at Tezuka and put his hand on his shoulder, telling him that it was enough for the day. Tezuka's Captain gave Fuji a knowing look before turning to leave the court, which Fuji patiently ignored. Fuji only smiled at Tezuka, watching Tezuka's irritation at the blank reaction building up behind those glasses.

"Why did you do that?" Tezuka asked, finally able to take the time to address him now that his Captain had gone.

"I like to take pictures." Fuji smiled, indifferently. He could tell that Tezuka found the smile unnerving, and liked that he had the potential to keep him on his toes.

"I see." Tezuka's eyes wandered down Fuji's arms to the camera cradled preciously in his hands, "But why did you miss so many shots on purpose?"

Fuji blinked, his mouth automatically opening to offer a retort, but that wasn't what he had been expecting, not at all. Did Tezuka see through him that easily? Well, he'd have to change that.

He laughed breezily. "On purpose? Do you think I would do something that absurd?"

Tezuka merely stared at him for a moment. Then, he cleared his throat and took another drink from his water bottle. "I want to play you."

 

\---

 

The phone only rang once before a familiar voice greeted Fuji. He knew Saeki must have been watching the caller ID, because Fuji was sure he only ever answered that quickly when Fuji called.

"I met somebody interesting, today."

"Yeah?" Saeki laughed, "Is he gonna be competition for me?"

"Mm, he just might be."


	3. Part Two

"Syuusuke, do you like it here?"

Fuji was lying on his stomach across Yumiko's bed, bouncing one foot up and down in a lazily syncopated rhythm. Yumiko hadn't bothered to look up from her book when she spoke. Fuji was fairly certain it wasn't a school book, or else it probably wouldn't be taking up so much of his sister's attention.

"It's fine."

"Is it? Don't you miss Kojirou-kun?"

Fuji rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, thoughtfully and deliberately. "I haven't lost him."

"You used to see him every day."

"Mhm," Fuji folded his hands beneath his head, "but it's fine."

"You're making new friends?" She watched him over the pages of her book. Fuji turned his head to meet her eyes.

"Are you, Neesan?"

She went back to reading. "Mm, I'm fine."

"Ah," Fuji sighed, smiling, "that's good."

 

\---

 

On Friday, Fuji walked alone to the park. Eiji was under the impression that he was going out to celebrate a cousin's birthday, but Fuji came from a small family and his only cousins lived in America.

The park was rather spacious and the paths wide, but it was still a bit crowded for Fuji's tastes. A few small ponds littered the scenery and children littered the paths. It took Fuji some time to find the right tennis courts as it turned out there were two sets. The first set of courts he found were bustling with people, and none of them happened to be Tezuka. The second set of courts he found were older, with some cracks in the court where grass poked through and the chain links of the fence were rather rusted in places. But they were rather secluded, so Fuji could understand why Tezuka preferred to wait there, serving ball after ball at a ghost of an opponent, every shot so accurately placed that it was as if he were trying to dent the service line.

It was easy to come from behind and observe Tezuka's form up close. Pulling open the zipper of his tennis bag slowly, he pulled out his camera, angling it just right so that Tezuka's hair effectively captured the dying sunlight.

Suddenly, Tezuka turned to face Fuji, causing Fuji's finger to pause over the shutter. 

"Not right now." Tezuka's eyes were deadly serious, searching Fuji's face. Fuji could recognise a challenge when he saw it. "Play me."

"Alright," Fuji said with a casual smile. He pushed through the rusted gate, broken so that the hinges didn't all quite meet. He bent to exchange his camera for the racquet in his bag. "But if I win--"

"Go ahead and win, then," Tezuka interrupted.

Fuji laughed, only slightly derisively. "Ah, I don't think I can. You're Seigaku's little star, aren't you, Tezuka?"

"Say what you want," Tezuka merely shrugged. "Ah. You never told me your name."

"I'll tell you once you win." Fuji ignored Tezuka's glare, taking his time strolling to the opposite side of the court. He used his racquet to scoop up one of the balls that Tezuka had already propelled across the net.

"So, Tezuka: smooth or rough?" 

Tezuka watched Fuji carefully, and although Fuji had no idea what he was searching for, his own calculating smile didn't falter.

"Rough," Tezuka finally answered, but Fuji didn't spin the racquet. Instead, he laughed. Fuji was already having fun.

"Really? You can serve first either way. You're all warmed up, aren't you?"

"Ah, I suppose so," Tezuka said as he caught the tennis ball Fuji sent toward him. "Just one set?"

"Whatever you want," Fuji said with a smirk, "but the sun's going down." 

Tezuka nodded, taking a few steps back so that he was behind the baseline. Fuji admired his service form-- so focused, so intense! The ball landed with a satisfying smack, pocketed snugly in the right corner of the service box, and Fuji smiled without moving to return it.

Tezuka narrowed his eyes. It seemed he wasn't pleased with his challenge not being met seriously. What a fun game Fuji had discovered. If he lost, he'd still win.

He ignored the second ball, too, and the third, discovering how beautiful a thing Tezuka's frustration was. But, it _was_ a challenge, so at forty-love, Fuji returned Tezuka's game-winning serve rather effortlessly and smiling. He wondered how long it would take Tezuka to see through his smile. Saeki always could, and Tezuka seemed like he was a smart boy.

He played the next five games in a similar fashion, missing easy shots, returning the ones he felt like. He was losing the match, but he was ultimately winning the game; Tezuka's frustration swelled up around the court, pulling him in deeper. 

They reached the sixth game. It was Fuji's service game, so he bounce the ball a few times and decided to try something different, something he'd rarely done. He was losing to win, either way, so if it didn't work out, there would be no real harm done. Fuji dropped the ball and gave it a little twist, trying out the feeling of an underhand serve. Tezuka's face was unreadable when he realised that Fuji had aced him. Was that confusion? Or was he impressed? 

Fuji aced him three times before he double faulted, handing Tezuka the victory of the sixth game. How disappointing. He handed Tezuka his hand, as well, standing at the net at the end of the match. Tezuka took it cautiously.

"My name--"

"Tell me when I really beat you." Tezuka's eyes were narrow, and he tightened his fingers around Fuji's hand. 

Fuji smiled, loathe to pull his hand away. "It's Fuji Syuusuke."

 

\---

 

It was late. Yuuta was already asleep, as were their parents, so the knock on Fuji's bedroom door could only really belong to Yumiko. He had grown used to late night visits like this; fortunately for Yuuta, the two of them had never had to share a bedroom. 

"Still up?" Yumiko asked needlessly.

A thick cardboard box stacked full of photo albums was open in the center of his bedroom floor and Fuji sat cross-legged next to it, an album opened before him. 

"It's not that late," Fuji said, but he was fairly sure it was. He just couldn't feel tired. 

Yumiko made a noise of agreement and invited herself to lie down on his bed, resting her chin on her hands. She looked down at the pages, but if it was his sister, it was alright. However, Fuji didn't let just anyone see the insides of his albums. 

He'd gotten a few rolls of film developed after school, so obviously the photographs needed to be sorted into their proper places. The last page of the album that was open was filled with pictures of Saeki. He was filling the page next to it with newer pictures of a sloppy-haired boy with glasses. Soon, he would have to make sure to add some shots of Eiji, but he hadn't introduced Eiji to his camera much just yet.

"I knew you'd make friends," Yumiko said quietly, smiling a bit too fondly at the boy on the page.

Fuji smiled, too, as he secured the last picture in its place. "His name is Tezuka."

"I know," Yumiko said, leaning closer to look over the pictures, "I've never seen you lose to somebody before, Syuusuke."

 

\---

 

Fuji met with Eiji on Sunday. Eiji had been horrified to discover that his new friend had no idea where such important places as the movie theatre or the arcades were, and he took it upon himself to show Fuji what he considered to be the best places in Tokyo. Fuji had tried to get Yuuta to tag along, but he claimed to be doing an assignment and stayed shut tightly inside his room. It seemed that he'd been in his room the entire week since they had moved, though-- Fuji wasn't even sure he had been to school in order to receive any assignments!

Through a crack in the door, Fuji had asked Yuuta whether or not he'd succeeded in producing a new reputation for himself. For a moment, Yuuta just looked at him through the crack... but then he slammed it in Fuji's face without another word. 

It was too bad they had moved into a house without sliding doors. Sliding doors were a bit more difficult to slam shut.

Tokyo was an easy city to get used to. Fuji thrived off people and liked for the life going on around his to be exciting. He had always loved Chiba-- the beach, the festivals, the wooden playground-- but everything in Tokyo seemed to be happening on a much grander scale. He'd been to Tokyo before, of course, but everything was so _new_ each time. Eiji had never been to Chiba (or much of anywhere, it seemed), and he made Fuji promise to take him and show him around sometime. 

They went out for a late lunch at a sushi restaurant which was owned by the family of a boy whom Eiji knew from school. He was part of the tennis club, apparently, but Fuji had only taken any real notice of a few select club members during the practices he'd witnessed thus far. 

Kawamura Sushi was a nice shop, small and homey. He did vaguely recognise the boy behind the counter, but only because he'd passed him walking with Eiji to practice the other day. The boy seemed rather shy and hadn't drawn any attention to himself, so Fuji hadn't given it.

"Hello, hello!" Eiji greeted him as enthusiastically as if Kawamura was the customer rather than him. Fuji seated himself next to Eiji at the counter and offered a nod to the boy and his father.

"Kikumaru-kun! It's good to see you over the weekend," Kawamura said politely, smiling a genuine smile. He seemed to be less shy, more at ease here in his element. 

"Nya, Takashi, I've told you to call me Eiji! With all my brothers and sisters, I'll never know who you're talking about if you just say Kikumaru," Eiji complained. 

"You could at least address him a little more formally," Kawamura's father reprimanded gently, "He's serving you today, after all!"

"Dad!" the boy said, blushing faintly. "They don't need to do that!"

"True," his father started, "I suppose your sushi won't be quite up to snuff--"

Fuji grinned. This boy was unexpectedly interesting, in his own way. "It's alright, Taka-san."

"Yeah, Taka- _san_ ," Eiji added, "I'd like some anago sushi, please!"

"Alright, and what would you like? You're Fuji, aren't you?"

"Mm," Fuji nodded, "You can make it with wasabi, right?"

"Wasabi? Of course--"

"Ehh?!" Eiji interrupted in disbelief. "Wasabi sushi, Fuji-kun? For real??"

"I like it," Fuji stated simply. That was all there was to it.

Taka-san and his father prepared the sushi side by side, Taka-san needing a bit more assistance than his father seemed to approve of. Eiji and Fuji talked happily of things that weren't tennis and things that _were_ tennis, Taka-san pouncing on the conversation whenever had had a chance.

Fuji learned on Sunday that Kawamura Sushi might be the best restaurant in all of Tokyo. The food tasted good, and Fuji rather enjoyed the company.

 

Fuji returned home late, and following a hasty reassurance to his parents that his assignments for the weekend were complete, he headed upstairs to see how his little brother's schoolwork was going. He knocked on the door, expecting the gruff answer when it was called, and didn't wait for an invitation before pushing the door open. He found a rather annoyed-looking Yuuta lying on his bed with his sketchpad open.

"Is your homework too difficult, Yuuta?" Fuji asked, leaning against the wall next to the door.

Yuuta stared blankly at the sketchpad for a moment, then rolled his eyes. "I guess."

"Ah, I see," Fuji agreed, playing along. "Do you need your big brother to help you?"

Yuuta finally turned to look at Fuji, but when he did, he was certainly glaring. "I can do it myself."

"Can you?" Fuji teased with a smile.

Yuuta scowled and snapped his sketchbook shut. "Do you want something, Aniki?"

"Mm," Fuji considered for a moment. "I just thought I'd check up on my little brother. He certainly missed out on a great day."

"Doubt it," Yuuta muttered. He laid his head down on his hands and closed his eyes, as if closing his eyes would be enough to make Fuji go away!

Fuji merely laughed. "Are you making new friends, Yuuta?" He watched his brother's eyebrows knit together, but received no response, friendly or not. In exchange for the silence, Fuji continued, "I am. I think I might like it in Tokyo."

He pulled the door closed as he stepped outside and heard something that sounded suspiciously like a pillow hit the door after him. Grinning, Fuji paused and spoke through the closed door. "Yuuta, I'm going to use the bath. You don't want to join me, do you?"

No retort came from the bedroom, so Fuji merely laughed and made good on his promise to take a bath. Nothing felt better than a nice bath after a long, enjoyable day with friends. Perhaps it would have been better if he had seen Tezuka, though.

 

\---

 

Eiji fell asleep in class on Monday. Fuji made only one attempt to nudge him awake, but Eiji only turned his face flat against the desk with a soft murmur. Perhaps he would have made a second attempt, but the sound Eiji made (and possibly Fuji's laugh) grabbed the teacher's attention. She apparently didn't appreciate the interruption of her lesson on the post-war Occupation due to something as trivial as a sleeping tennis player.

After she issued them both detention, Fuji had to hold his tongue so that he didn't point out to her that they'd learned about the Occupation nearly ever year since elementary school. Not that Fuji cared too much about being disrespectful, but he was more interested in watching the tennis club practice than spend any extra days in detention.

During a class break, they ventured out into the halls as a distraught Eiji bemoaned his bad luck, getting a detention in the first month of school. Fuji had never once landed in detention prior to this; he and Saeki were far more careful.

It was strange when Fuji noticed Tezuka walking down the hallway directly toward them, because not only was Tezuka in class 1-1 (quite a ways down the hall from class 1-6), but Tezuka seemed like someone who would stay in his classroom studying even during breaks. Fuji smiled as soon as he saw him coming, and even Eiji's face lit up at seeing someone he recognised from club.

"Tezuka!" Eiji called as they boy approached them.

"Hello, Kikumaru." Tezuka gave a short incline of his head in Eiji's direction, then looked at Fuji. "Hello."

"Don't remember my name, Tezuka?" Fuji asked, grinning.

To his mild disappointment, Eiji interrupted. Although, Fuji was pretty certain that Tezuka would have ignored the question anyway. Besides, Fuji had gotten a bit caught up in noticing how nicely Tezuka's school uniform fit him.

"Tezuka, I need you to help me out, okay? Will you tell Ryuzaki-sensei that I'll be late to practice today?"

Tezuka looked from Eiji to Fuji, and Fuji thought he noticed Tezuka's eyes lingering on him just a moment before regarding Eiji again thoughtfully. "Why are you going to be late? Tennis club should be treated as a priority."

"It is!" Eiji said hastily. "But Fuji and I got detention, so... please, Tezuka! It's not like I want to go to detention!" Eiji sulked. Fuji wondered how Tezuka could resist Eiji's expression, but Tezuka merely raised his eyebrows a fraction, giving him quite the _look_.

"Detention? Ah. Then I shall inform Ryuzaki-sensei of your misconduct."

Fuji laughed. He couldn't help it! "Misconduct, Tezuka? You make us sound like such delinquents."

Tezuka stared at him in consideration for a moment with a look that Fuji hoped wasn't the annoyance it appeared to be. "The bell is going to ring. I have to get back to class. Goodbye," he nodded his head briefly, "Kikumaru."

Fuji laughed at his rudeness as the two turned to head back into their own classroom. The bell rang just as they crossed the threshold, so there was no way that Tezuka could have made it back in time. 

Well, well. It seemed that Mr. Perfect could make mistakes, too, huh?

 

Eiji was in a slight hurry to get to tennis club after their detention. They ended up having to wash the blackboards and wipe down all the desks, but it didn't take as long as it could have. Their teacher was a bit more kindhearted than she wanted to let on and understood that at least Eiji had club activities to attend to. Despite Eiji's hurry, Fuji took his time taking off his uniform jacket, rolling up his sleeves. It was a nice day and he wanted to enjoy the weather.

By the time Eiji was in his PE uniform and at the courts, practice was nearly halfway over. The coach, Ryuzaki, was standing against the fence on the inside, arms folded as she let the Captain give orders to the team.

The fence gate creaked open, and Eiji rested his racquet on his shoulder as he casually tried to join the ranks. Fuji seated himself on the bench on the outside of the fence, scanning the courts for Tezuka. 

"Kikumaru!" Ryuzaki barked as Eiji sneaked in, "I hope you don't plan on making this a habit."

"I know, I know! It wasn't my fault," Eiji protested, slouching back against the fence in a pout.

"Ah, Eiji, shouldn't you just start picking up balls like a good freshman?" Fuji teased from the opposite side of the fence.

Ryuzaki turned to Fuji, who apparently hadn't been as quiet as he thought, but at least it gave Eiji the chance to run off. 

"Oh? So you're the one he was telling me about," Ryuzaki said, putting her hands on her hips. Fuji answered with nothing but a direct smile. "A better question might be: shouldn't _you_ be picking up balls like a good freshman? I've heard you can play well, Fuji."

Fuji laughed quietly. "Who told you that?" he asked, as if she couldn't see the racquet handle protruding from his school bag.

Ryuzaki chuckled wholeheartedly, completely unaffected by his smile. Interesting. "Somebody I trust. He suggested I give you this if you showed up today." Ryuzaki reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She opened it and held it up so that Fuji could see it through the chain link fence. It appeared to be a club entry form, though Fuji didn't strain too hard to see it.

"Mm, I'm not interested," Fuji shrugged casually, and he shouldered his bag as he stood to walk away. 

"If you change your mind, the offer still stands," she laughed at Fuji's back. "It might be good for a shy boy like you to get involved, you know."

Shy? She couldn't be serious. Fuji decided not to make his way over to the bench on the far side, from where he usually watched Tezuka and waited for Eiji, but turned and headed straight for home.

 

Fuji tossed his school bag on his bed, rather disappointed in the way events had unfolded after school. Detention hadn't exactly been the high point of his day and he'd only seen Tezuka once, during break. He and Eiji hadn't even gone anywhere after practice; they had been developing a nice habit of spending time with each other. He considered perhaps calling in about an hour when he knew tennis club would be over and Eiji would be home, or just about there. But even as he thought it, Fuji realised that he didn't have to wait: there was somebody else he could call right away.

Saeki's mother answered the phone. "It's so nice to hear from you, Syuusuke. It's different not having you over every day."

"Hello, Saeki-san," Fuji returned, feigning patience; he adored Saeki's mother, but right now he only really wanted to speak with her son. "It wasn't really _every_ day, was it? Is Kojirou home yet?"

"Sure, sure. Just a moment," she returned with a maternal chuckle, setting down the phone. Saeki picked up a moment he heard his mother calling out his name. 

"Koji-kun," said Fuji simply, an open-ended greeting. It really was strange to not have Saeki as a constant presence...

"Hey, Syuu-chan, how's it going?" Saeki sounded happy... Fuji hoped he was, hoped that he didn't miss him too much. At least, he told himself that he hoped that. But Fuji hadn't really thought about Saeki nearly as much as he thought he would since he'd come to Tokyo.

"I'm fine," Fuji responded, "How was your first day of school?"

"It was pretty cool. My teacher is this mean old guy, though," Fuji liked that he could hear Saeki's grin. "Hey, you know, one of the twins is in my class."

"Mm?" Fuji asked, interested. "Which one?"

Saeki just laughed. "Take a guess, Syuu-chan. You know Atsushi studies way more than we ever have."

"Ah, of course. What class are you in?"

"Eh, only made it to 1-C. I didn't really try as hard as I could've on the entrance exams, you know?" Saeki answered casually.

"I'm all the way down in 1-6," laughed Fuji. 

"Oho, so I'm finally better than you at something?"

Fuji raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Seigaku is more than twice the size of Rokkaku, you know. Are you going to join the tennis club?"

"Are you kidding me? What do you think Ojii would say if I didn't? I picked up a form today, already've got it filled out."

It was nice, Fuji decided, to talk again with somebody familiar. "Ojii will make you your own racquet this year," he observed with a strange pang in his chest. Fuji firmly ignored it.

"Ah, yeah. You're missing out, Syuu-chan," Saeki said, regret in his voice. Fuji ignored that, too. 

They talked for an hour and a half, until Saeki's mother called him back downstairs for dinner. Forgetting all about his potential plans with Eiji, Fuji picked up his tennis racquet, anxious and with energy to spare. Saeki had always been able to get him fired up.

 

He only had had to spend five minutes trying to convince Yuuta to play tennis with him before he lost his patience with his little brother's stubbornness, but by time he got to the park, the sun was already sinking into the horizon. He didn't suppose it mattered; the courts had lights, after all. Of course, it wouldn't have mattered either way if he hadn't had an opponent.

But even before he'd tried to convince Yuuta to join him, he'd been fairly certain that there would be someone waiting for him at the park, at the courts that needed a deal of maintenance. Most people wouldn't play there, maybe, but Fuji was sure that Tezuka would be there, waiting.

And he was.

"Want to play the best of three sets today?" Fuji asked, setting down his tennis bag. He didn't bother with a greeting-- he didn't think Tezuka would accept it. All Tezuka gave him was a nod and a monosyllabic agreement, and they played.

Fuji allowed himself to win seven games today (two in the first set, four in the second set, and only one in the third, as he grew a bit bored), but Tezuka still wouldn't call him by his name. Tezuka was an interesting concept that he'd introduced himself to, and Fuji realised that, perhaps, he might not want to be the victor of this game.


End file.
